Missed Opportunities
by joely1
Summary: Howard makes an unexpected return after showbiz didn't work out for him. Vince is overjoyed that he now has the opportunity to confess his true feelings. Fluffy Howince.
1. Chapter 1

Vince's head snapped up in surprise as the door of Nabootique swung open. Being in the heart of winter, the silent atmosphere of the shop was interrupted by the howling blizzard outside, the swirling snow being a lot more visible now, when before it was blurred out by the frosted windows.

Vince squinted, trying to see who was stood in the doorway, in a rather large winter coat. It was beige, and the figure was tall, and slightly large, which to Vince looked painfully familiar. Oh, how he longed to lay his eyes upon that face he so dreadfully missed...and maybe this was his opportunity!

He kicked himself behind the counter. It wasn't fair on himself to build up his own hopes like that.

At Howard's birthday party, the kiss on the rooftop was genuine. When the one person Vince had ever longed for, announced that he thoroughly enjoyed Vince's sudden act of 'affection', and told him to 'pucker up', Vince felt like he had conquered the biggest mountain, struck the purest gold, when the only reason he did it was to save his own ass. But Vince was glad that Dennis, Head Shaman, had gone on a rampage to behead him. If it wasn't for him, Vince wouldn't have been able to feel those tender lips against his own, or to feel those butterflies that were finally able to flutter for the first time…

But then, minutes after the kiss, when a lady had approached Vince's one love, causing him to reject Vince, the poor boy only accepted the lady that approached _him_ so he didn't look heartbroken – so he looked careless, the sunshine kid everyone smiled at when he came into view, for being so happy-go-lucky all the time.

And then, the person Vince cared about the most in the whole world, got his big break and left to work with a very famous, successful director. And Vince thought he would never come back. Words couldn't describe how heartbroken he was…how he had never gotten a chance to confess his true feelings…

"Vince."

His head snapped up again – he must've gone off in a daze. He squinted again at the stranger, the voice adding to the familiarity of the figure in the doorway.

The stranger lifted its arms, and pulled back the hood of its winter coat. Vince's breath caught in his throat.

It was him.

Howard.

Vince stammered, swiped his fringe quickly to the side, trying not to look flustered and surprised. It didn't work though. The corner of Howard's mouth twitched, a slight smile. Vince didn't know what to say. He was utterly speechless.

"Hi, little man," Howard said warmly, unzipping and shrugging off his winter coat. He was dressed in his usual, familiar clothes – a polar neck brown jumper, corduroy trousers… and words couldn't describe how much Vince had missed seeing those garments.

"Hi," Vince managed to say, through shock.

"Did you miss me?" Howard laughed.

Vince swallowed, and reminded himself to maintain his carefree, sunshine kid appearance. He didn't want to look as if he was going to squash his best friend in an enormous bear hug any second.

"Hah! No," Vince snorted, maintaining a casual position by leaning against the counter.

Howard rolled his eyes. "You haven't changed then," he said, although Vince could tell he knew he was putting an act on.

"Not one bit," Vince smirked. "I've been out every night – attending Bollo's DJ nights, meeting girls at clubs…it's been genius!"

That was a lie and a half. It was a rarity that Vince ever went out these days. He'd usually mope about in the flat, while Naboo and Bollo ran shaman-related errands, reading issue after issue of Cheekbone magazine. He almost lost his interest in his own appearance, usually lying around in his pajamas or tracksuit bottoms. He hardly ever straightened his hair, or wore any makeup. It was just fortunate that Howard had happened to return on a rare day when he actually made some effort to look stylish.

"Well. I've decided to return…" Howard's voice trailed off. He stared at the floor awkwardly. "The whole showbiz thing wasn't for me," he finished.

Vince grinned. "Or, in other words, you failed," he mocked, while inside he was happy as a pig in mud.

"I did NOT fail," Howard said firmly. "I couldn't work with the director. I quit. Didn't like his style."

"Style, what style? I can guarantee it's actually the other way round. He couldn't stand _you_," Vince was giving it his all. He was still angry from being heartbroken by Howard's actions.

Howard shrugged it off, obviously too happy about being back to care about Vince's harsh words. "I'm gonna go upstairs, unpack, and take a shower."

As soon as Howard's back turned to trudge up the stairs, a massive smile took over Vince's face.

"There's a party tomorrow night," Vince called up, "you better get used to a lot happening round here."

"Whatever," Howard shouted back down, "I'm just happy to be back."

Vince snorted – purposely loudly so Howard could hear – and continued with absent-mindedly drawing. He turned over a page in his book to start fresh, and began sketching the outline of Howard's face.

But what would happen at the party? With Vince's mind constantly yelling at him to admit his true feelings, would the alcohol consumed trigger it? Would Vince gather that much confidence from all the spirits and cocktails to tell the one person he loved about how he had been feeling, for the past three or so years?

It was a bank holiday, so Vince closed up the shop early, and calming his nerves and taking a deep breath, he slowly made his way up the stairs. He came to face Howard in the living room, sat on the couch watching television. How he had missed those incredibly small eyes focused on the TV screen, that mocha moustache and the curly, brown locks. Vince had to force his mouth shut from blurting out how beautiful his best friend looked. Instead, he turned on his heel into the kitchen.

"Cuppa tea?" he offered, too loved up to put on the 'careless' act right now.

"Already got one, thanks," Howard replied, holding up his mug.

Vince continued with making his own, as quickly as he could, before grabbing a big packet of Digestives and collapsing down on the sofa next to Howard.

"So, what is the real reason you came back?" Vince asked, before he could stop himself.

Howard turned to look at him, amused. "And why would you care about that, Vince Noir?"

Vince shrugged, mentally kicking himself for not figuring out a comeback to Howard's reaction before.

Howard's smile expanded. "I came back, because I missed you too much. We're partners in crime, Vince. We're mates for life – although sometimes neither of us would think of each other as even acquaintances – and I intend to keep it that way. Call me a soft old gay boy now, but, I never really wanted to leave in the first place. How could I leave Nabootique, and the people who occupy it? I simply couldn't leave you."

Howard turned his head away back to the television screen, to avoid Vince's sniggers or teases, but Vince just sat there, gazing at the side of his friend's face. If only he had said that with his arms around Vince, rocking him slowly back and forth. And before Vince could do that himself – throw his arms violently around Howard's neck – Howard clapped his hands together, and stood up.

"The show's finished," he announced. "I'm going out to visit Lester. Seeya."

He flashed Vince a small, but beautiful smile before grabbing his coat and exiting the flat.

Vince's shoulders slumped, his face drooping with the thought of a missed opportunity. He guessed he'd just have to wait until tomorrow night, where, drunk or not, he would give Howard the biggest hug ever.


	2. Chapter 2

The Party

"How do I look, Bollo?" Vince asked, before stepping out from behind the door and striking a pose in his brand new party outfit.

"Magnifique," Bollo replied.

Vince nodded firmly. He _had_ to make sure all the stops were pulled out for Howard. He'd gone for something Vince-like, very outrageous and 'magnifique' as his primate friend liked to call it, but he'd chose something a bit different this time. Not the usual glitter and sparkles. He'd purposely picked out an outfit Howard would like, and it wasn't difficult, because Vince knew him inside and out after being his friend for so many years. And Vince had qualifications in fashion.

An hour later, the party was pretty much in full swing. Vince had had a few drinks but wasn't really drunk yet. Howard was in the corner with Lester, most probably talking about jazz. Howard then suddenly caught Vince's eyes lovingly gazing at him before he looked away, embarrassed.

Within the next hour Vince had gotten a lot of girls approaching him, trying to flirt with him. But he wasn't having any of it. He only had eyes for Howard, no matter how hot these girls were. The conversation had only lasted half a minute before Vince muttered "Would you excuse me" and hurried away, only to be faced with another girl seconds later. Little did he know Howard was viewing this from the corner, feeling a little over-protective of him.

After Vince had abandoned the entire female population in the flat, he was pretty much out of it. The only reason he was this drunk, far much more than usual, was to give himself an excuse to get away from the ladies, by filling up his glass on the other side of the room, far, far away from them. He stumbled around, not being able to help himself from staring at Howard possessively, who was flirting with a girl in the corner. After assuring Bollo he was completely fine, he tripped over his own boot heel and fell backwards – into strong, firm arms.

Vince was unfortunately too drunk to realise that those arms belonged to Howard. Or maybe it was better that he didn't know that Howard hadn't rushed forward to catch him, like a knight in corduroy, but Vince happened to fall _into_ him.

"I think this little man needs to be put to bed," Howard said to Bollo, who nodded before getting distracted by a friend jumping on his back.

Vince's mind jumped awake at the sound of Howard's voice, which sounded quite close. It took him a while to piece together the fact that he was being held by him, but when he finally did, Howard had flipped his legs up, and was carrying him to their bedroom, which was out of bounds to the party guests.

Howard carefully laid Vince down on his bed, pulling off his Chelsea boots. Vince managed to force his eyes open wide enough to watch Howard do this, a look of warmth and care on his face, the expression that he adored.

"Alright there, little man?" Howard chuckled.

"'Oward…" Vince slurred.

"What is it? You going to be sick?" Howard asked, resting his hand upon Vince's shoulder.

Vince shook his head, determined to keep his eyes open. It was now, or never. Howard was pretty much sober, and Vince now had the confidence to confess his true feelings – if he could manage to piece together words that made sense, that is. And Howard would remember these words.

"'Oward, I…" Vince started, but couldn't finish.

Howard patted his back. "I'm gonna leave you to get some rest," he said softly.

"No, wait!" Vince snapped. He couldn't miss this, not after what happened at the _last_ party, months before his true love had left for showbiz. He couldn't wait any longer.

Howard raised one eyebrow. "What is it, Vince?" he asked, somewhat impatiently.

"'Oward, I…I lo-ove you." Wow. It took much more effort than he thought it would to push out those three, simple words.

Howard laughed. "I love you too, little man. Best pals, eh?" he nudged him playfully.

"No, you don't understand," Vince slurred. "I love you, 'Oward Moon. More than I should."

Howard's eyes widened as he realised the message his electro friend was putting across. Vince studied his face, as its expression turned to shock. He didn't care what his reaction was now, he just felt like a large weight had been lifted off his shoulders. As long as Howard knew, the shit that came after it didn't matter. Now Vince didn't have to pretend anymore.

"Vince, I-"

"No," Vince whispered, holding a finger up to Howard's lips. "Go and enjoy the party. I'mma gets some sleep."

But as Howard stared down at him, feeling mixed emotions, not knowing what to say, numbed by shock, Vince didn't feel at all satisfied. He had to do one last thing.

And before Howard could do anything else, and before Vince could stop himself, he threw himself at the man above him, and their lips met. It was absolute bliss. As soon as skin came into contact, time moved incredibly slow. Vince felt on top of the world for the second time, his heart was pounding in his chest, fireworks and butterflies and explosions were all present and active in the pit of his stomach. The world around them stopped, the yells and laughing and music from the party down the corridor were muted. It felt like the two of them were discovering the first kiss on planet Earth, like they invented it. Vince, knowing at that moment it was his duty to deepen the kiss, since he was the one who began it, began to move his lips, slowly, almost as if asking for permission. Howard began to move his aswell, and the two kissed in sync, holding each other, the explosions in Vince's stomach increasing. But he still wanted more, and his drunken state allowed him to forcefully push his tongue into Howard's mouth, a little too forcefully, for Howard pulled away, and stood up, panicking. Vince watched him, wanting badly to reverse time and take that tactless move back. Everything was going so well! He thought to himself as Howard backed away, spluttering.

"I-I…Vince, you- what on earth do you think- we can't _do_ this- don't you understand?" his splutters turned into snaps of anger. "You're just drunk! How dare you do this to me- and how dare I take advantage of you." And with that, he quickly opened the door, and rushed out, slamming it behind him.

Vince didn't do anything else. Just drunkenly cried himself to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The Morning After Effects

The next morning, Vince had no memory of the party at all. His mind went black whenever he desperately tried to think. Which was worrying, because Howard avoided his eyes whenever they talked – and Howard was trying extremely hard to not talk to him at all – and didn't actually string together full sentences, they were either one-word replies or the end of the sentence trailed off.

But Vince was terrified of asking him why he was acting this way, for he knew he had done something wrong at the party, something that probably upset or angered his friend. He tried to ask Naboo or Bollo if they had any clue what he did, but both of them had no memory either. It seemed Howard was the only one who was actually sober.

But the two of them couldn't carry on this way. It seemed Howard wouldn't stop this cold shoulder business very soon, so Vince decided to confront him after lunch.

"Howard, why are you acting like this?" Vince burst out suddenly, on the other side of the counter. Howard looked up, but looked at his nose, not his eyes.

"Stop looking at my nose, and look at _me_!" Vince exclaimed. "Listen, Howard. I have no memory of last night and I'm pretty worried, because I know I've done something wrong but I can't remember what it is. I'm so sorry if I've upset you, whatever happened. Please enlighten me? I'm getting pretty concerned now."

Howard gulped. "It's nothing, Vince," he muttered.

"'Oward, both of us know I'm not gonna take that as an answer," Vince said firmly, putting his hands on his hips forcefully.

"You don't _want_ to know!" Howard suddenly snapped out of the blue, making Vince jump. "I wish I was in your position so I wouldn't be able to think about it, popping into my mind once every minute, especially when you come over and talk to me, or if I see you, even just a glimpse. It's not _fair_ what happened to both of us, and I think if only I knew about it we can forget about this faster."  
He was out of breath from ranting. Vince reached out and rested his hand comfortingly on his friend's shoulder, only to be growled at – "Don't touch me."

"Sorry," said Vince, hastily taking back his hand. "Just _please_ Howard, give me some hints here. I don't have to know the details, just give me some kind of clue-?"

"No way," Howard slammed down his crossword on the desk, and turned to hurry up the stairs into the flat. "I refuse."

Vince, without a second thought, followed him, determined not to give up until he received a satisfying answer. At the same time, he was trying so hard to gather some kind of memory about the situation, no matter how vague it was. But the special Shaman mixture Naboo had given him had unfortunately wiped his mind completely blank.

"'Oward, _please_," Vince begged, tugging on his arm.

Howard snapped round, glaring at him, eyes full of hatred.

"Howard!" Vince stepped back, stupefied at how much his best friend seemed to despise him. "What I did couldn't have been _that_ bad."

"You wanna bet?" Howard spat. He collapsed onto the sofa, face in hands. "You got so drunk. You told me you loved me. Then, out of complete insanity, I took advantage of you and- and, I let you kiss me. And it was horrible to know what you were saying wasn't true because you were just- well, out of it. You didn't know what you were saying. It broke my heart, Vince, knowing you were leading me on like that, but I couldn't help it…because…"

"Because what?" Vince asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Howard had gotten it all wrong. And of course, knowing him that is something only he would do. Typical Howard. Vince had to try hard to stop himself rolling his eyes.

It was a couple or so minutes before Howard acted. He shook his head, stuttering again, looking almost insane. He leapt up, grabbed his coat, and almost jumped the whole of the staircase down into the shop. Vince then heard a door slam, and the flat was silent.

Vince stood up, sighing. It's no use crying about it, he thought to himself, crossing into the kitchen and putting the kettle on. He could just try again later. Maybe by the time Howard got back he'd have calmed down, thought things through and maybe realised that Vince was being completely honest at the party. It was frustrating how he hardly ever got drunk, so he didn't know the effects of it, one of them being, _confidence_. Isn't that obvious to any normal person? Vince questioned himself. But then he realised – well, Howard's far from normal.

He heard the door open downstairs and two pairs of footsteps trudging up the staircase. Naboo and Bollo. Vince peered round the door.

"Alright?" he said, trying to put on a smile, but his heart really not feeling up to it.

Naboo, being magical, and also having known Vince for a long time, spotted his sadness immediately.

"Come on then, what's wrong?" he sighed, crossing to the sofa and getting the daily bong set up for himself and his familiar.

"Just Howard business," Vince muttered, stirring the tea before abandoning the spoon and heading for his room.

"Where is the ballbag anyway?" Naboo asked, looking around.

"He stormed off when I confronted him," Vince shook his head, sadly. "Couldn't you tell the future for me, Naboo? You know, whack out your inflatable traveler's crystal ball?"

"The sacred crystal ball only predicts the future when the wind is right," Naboo said wisely, Bollo grunting in agreement.

Vince sighed, and continued on into his room. He sat down on his bed, sighing sadly at the fact that Howard and he were entwined on this bed less than 24 hours ago, Vince's hopes and dreams being granted. He patted the bed covers, spreading them out, and lay down, abandoning his tea on the floor, not feeling in the mood for a hot beverage anymore. He wasn't going to cry, but he just felt empty, like a dark pit of despair. Where was Howard now? He belonged here, with Vince. He definitely hadn't gone to see anyone, probably just moped around, sulking.  
Vince had no regrets about what he did, and he wasn't very surprised when Howard blurted out what had happened. It was bound to occur at some point; Vince was getting more and more impatient every second.

He closed his eyes, imagining what would've happened if Howard had accepted Vince's deepening of the kiss. By now, they'd be aware of how they felt about each other. But no. Vince's life – no matter how happy he seemed to be – wasn't meant to turn out happily. Howard had no feelings for him, and none would develop. This thought alone bought tears to his eyes. He swallowed, and wiped them away fiercely, determined not to burst into tears like a big baby. He couldn't tell the future like Naboo, he had no idea what could happen when Howard returned. Maybe everything would turn out alright. And that thought sent Vince into a deep, hopeful sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Vince awoke to the sound of low, murmuring voices from the other room. He sat up, ears pricked, and then his heart jumped when realising one of those voices belonged to Howard.

He got up, and crept over to the door, holding his ear up to it. The voices stopped, and then he almost witnessed a heart attack after a fist loudly knocked on the door, right beside his ear. He stumbled backwards, clutching his ear and cursing.

"Come in," he groaned, sitting back down on the bed.

The door opened slowly, and there stood gingerly in the doorframe was Howard.

"Hi," said Vince quietly, releasing his ear.

"Hi," Howard said back, still avoiding his eyes.

He shut the door behind him and went and sat on his bed, on the opposite side of the room.

"Where did you go?" Vince asked.

"For a walk," Howard said shortly, fluffing up his pillows and lying back on them.

"Where to?"

"Around."

Vince sighed. He wasn't in the mood to be given the cold shoulder. He'd been worried sick about Howard ever since he left, extremely close to crying. He wasn't up for being ignored or being glared at.

But he had to be tactful. The last thing he wanted was to cause was another argument, and then he really _would_ burst into tears. He had to approach this carefully.

"That's nice," Vince forced a smile, when in fact he wanted to shake Howard, shake the truth out of him.

"Hmm," Howard mumbled, opening up his crossword.

"So, what do you want to talk about?"

Howard sighed. "Why don't you go out, Vince." It wasn't a suggestion. It was almost like an order.

Vince couldn't take it anymore. "Listen, 'Oward, I've been concerned about you all day. I just want to talk to you, make sure everything's alright."

"Well as you can probably tell, things are far from alright, Vince," Howard snapped, finally looking him in the eyes for the first time since years, it seemed. "I'm upset, angry, heartbroken, and confused. I just want to be left alone."

Vince sat in silence, looking at the miserable version of his best friend on the other side of the room, wishing he could approach him, and hold him, and reassure him that everything would be okay. But he couldn't. Howard would most probably reject him, believing he was just cruelly leading him on. It truly was a terrible misunderstanding – and Vince wished he could put things right. Maybe now he was sober, Howard would believe him? But then again, knowing the jazz maverick, he'd think Vince was doing it as some sick joke for his own amusement. Which was far from true. Vince thought the world of him and couldn't bear to lose him. If only he could realise that!

"Okay," Vince sighed, standing up. He crossed the room to the door.

"Vince – I…"

Vince turned around, praying Howard had finally realised, a look of hope in his face, as he stared at his true love lying on the bed.

"I'm sorry if I'm making you feel bad. But what you did broke my heart. For a second, I really did believe you. You got me there, you're very convincing."

Vince's heart split in two, and he wasn't ashamed anymore to let the tears form and run down his face. Howard's facial expression turned from miserable into shock and horror as the tears streamed down his best friend's cheeks. Vince stood there for a moment more, letting Howard see how honest he had been all along. Letting him see what he was doing to him. And before Howard could say anything, Vince opened the door and slammed it behind him as he ran out of the flat, out of the shop, and down the street. His destination was unknown and he didn't even care. Anywhere away from Howard would do. And that jazzy freak thought _Vince_ was the heartbreaker! How narrow-minded and stubborn was he to think that because of Vince's jokey, careless presence and reputation, all the words that passed his lips he didn't mean! Vince was actually a human, he had feelings, a conscience and a heart! Words couldn't describe how frustrated and misunderstood he felt at that moment.

He finally found a grubby old bench which he threw himself down on out of anger. How long he planned to stay there, he didn't know. For hours, it seemed, he watched the world go by, and people walk past going about their everyday lives. They were all Howard-free. They weren't all tangled up in an emotional mess like him. Vince wished he could just get away, pack his bags and leave, where Howard could never find him. But another part of him – a stronger, bigger part – wanted to whisk him away to a deserted, paradise where they could live happily together, with no one around to get in the way or cause problems. Howard would wear his Hawaiian shirts and Vince would transform his corduroy trousers into stylish shorts, sewing a few flowery patches on, giving them a bit of "oomph". They could live perfectly in isolation, living off the land, drinking coconut milk (obviously not rancid coconut milk – they'd gone through _that _madness before) and organic berries. Vince would make fisherman's outfits, with a bit of a unique twist, but they'd be the comfiest thing to wear to go fishing in. They'd catch the biggest, tastiest fish – with Vince's natural gift he'd discovered on Black Lake – and fry them over a fire…

A blaring car horn jolted Vince away from his daze and turned his attention to how dark it had gotten since he had arrived. For a second, he forgot why he was sat on this scabby old bench, until a pang of realization hit him and he leapt up, and almost ran back to the flat.

He had no intention to speak to Howard, or even look in his direction. Why should he approach him? If Howard had any sense he'd be kissing Vince's feet the moment he walked in.

But when he did walk in, Howard didn't look up from the TV, didn't even glance or react in anyway at the sound of the closing door. Naboo and Bollo were in the kitchen preparing dinner, so who else could it be? Why wasn't Howard reacting to his return after the way he treated him?

Vince let out a heavy sigh he had every intention to be heard, and crossed to the kitchen, where he prepared a steaming mug of tea. He wasn't going to let Howard see him sad again.

"Alright, Naboo, Bollo?" he asked, busying himself with the kettle.

"Alright, Vince," said Naboo, adding some basil to the tomato pasta sauce he was making. "We're making tuna pasta with this sauce. It's got special shaman qualities added to it. You want some?"

Vince's stomach growled at the thought. "Yeah, actually," he said, clutching it. "I'm well hungry."

"Howard, you want some too?" Naboo called into the other room.

A grunt came back as the reply.

"I'm guessing that's a no," Naboo said, "more for us, then."  
Vince grinned, knowing full well Howard had his eyes on him as he stood in the doorway. "I'm just gonna go prepare my outfit for tonight."

"What's going on tonight?" Naboo asked, handing Bollo a red pepper, which he began chopping up.

"I'm hitting the clubs, you know me! Vince Noir, Prince of Camden, blowing everyone away with my glittery outfits and grace!"

Naboo grinned. "Ah Vince, you slag."

Vince laughed, blanking Howard as he crossed to the bedroom.

"How do I look?" Vince asked, before stepping out behind the door.

He directed the question at Naboo and Bollo, but Howard turned around aswell, instantly blown back by the black-haired beauty posing in front of him. Vince had gone for a glittery cape, with tight, leather trousers and sparkly gold Chelsea boots. His eye makeup had been applied gracefully to his face, which was flawless and wonderfully pointy. His raven hair was stuck up and shaped elegantly round his face.

"Ooh, magnifique," Bollo's usual reply came without fail.

"Like a futuristic prostitute," Naboo said.

Vince grinned. "Thanks, guys."  
Pointedly ignoring Howard's warm expression towards him, he grabbed his comb, yelled a quick "Seeya" and headed out the door. He felt on top of the world, making Howard feel this low. Now he knew how Vince had felt, when Howard had narrow-mindedly judged him.

Howard tried to look normal and content with the TV programme he was watching, but inside he felt empty and completely miserable. How could he have done that to his precious friend who meant so much to him? Been that thoughtless and stupid to judge so quickly? Typical him, though. Always messing things up, blowing countless numbers of perfect opportunities.  
He wondered what Vince was doing at that moment, as Naboo and Bollo lay totally knocked out from the bong they had smoked. Probably hitting on some girls, and succeeding, he thought. He could probably get all of the female population of Camden, maybe even more. He was most likely capable of turning the straightest men on the planet too, for God's sake!

And Vince had eyes for _him_, Howard. The boring, pessimistic, jazzy freak with a ridiculous fashion sense and a pathetic moustache, which had _nothing_ on Dixon Bainbridge's. No one would've thought the popular, funny, stylish – practically _famous_ – Vince Noir wanted someone as pathetic as Howard Moon, a wannabe, but knowing full well that he was simply just a failure.

And with that thought permanently wedged into his mind, Howard the failure fell asleep to the boring, history documentary he was watching.

Vince just wanted to go home, go home to Howard and tell him everything. But that was proving physically impossible as he was incredibly drunk, after repeatedly drinking away his sorrows. He couldn't walk a meter without stumbling over, or tripping into somebody. And the busy streets of nightlife Camden were rather grouchy when all pumped up and drunk, and he had gotten shoved backwards quite a few times now, by frustrated clubbers. He had his phone in his pocket, but was afraid of dropping it and didn't want to risk trying to call Howard.

He knew the way home, he could get there easily if he just _tried_, but the alcohol clouded his mind and dizzied him, turning the street in front of him into a swirling mess. His legs felt like jelly and his stomach churned at the thought of the mixed drinks he had consumed. Tears rolled down his face as he actually felt generally _frightened_ for the first time on a night out. He would never be able to get home. He'd probably end up in the gutter, or worse, in a _bin_. He just wanted Howard's strong arms around him, carrying him comfortingly to his bed, lying him down, tucking him up and holding him. If Vince could, he'd do the exact same back, but much more. He'd treat him like a bloody _king_, for goodness' sake, he'd cater to his every need and learn to cook, and then prepare meals fit for a king, which he deserved to be titled. He'd make the jazz maverick happy, give him a perfect life. Why couldn't he have seen that when Vince had told him he loved him?

He came to a back alley, and not knowing why, turned into it. It was no use anymore, he simply couldn't go on. He collapsed down against the grimy, soggy wall, and sobbed, feeling the opposite of the graceful, beautiful 'Prince of Camden' everyone saw him as. If his large population of friends could see him like this, he'd be disowned straight away. Vince knew how shallow they were. They only liked him for his looks and popularity, not for his personality. They were only using him. So why did Vince put up with them?

As he sat there in the dirty, smelly back alley, he realised he didn't need the party lifestyle anymore. He could very easily retire. He'd use his fashion knowledge for other purposes. He could still wear his outrageous outfits, but for different reasons. He didn't need nightclubs or alcohol or girls. He just needed the boring, jazzy pessimist that was Howard TJ Moon. And that happy thought sent him into a deep, drunken sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Howard awoke to Naboo and Bollo seriously discussing something in the kitchen. The first thought that came to his mind was where was Vince, how was he and what was he doing? But Vince wasn't anywhere to be seen, which unsettled Howard's stomach slightly.

"What's going on?" he asked, crossing to the kitchen.

Naboo looked down at the floor awkwardly.

"Vince missing," Bollo replied.

Howard's stomach fully churned then, causing his heart to pound faster and harder. He wouldn't rest anymore until he had found Vince, and he wasn't going to waste any more time. Not even pulling on a change of clothes, let alone a shower, he stuffed his feet into his shoes and rushed out the door.

He searched Camden for hours it seemed, checking around all the clubs Vince usually visited with all of his followers and friends. But all of this thorough searching wasn't proving to be of any use, and he grew more and more panicked when he realised he had searched the whole of Camden more than three times. Whenever he saw a figure with black, choppy hair, his heart leapt up into his throat, but the figure revealed itself as either a woman or a Vince wannabe. His heart then sank back down again, leaving him more miserable than ever.

He returned back to the flat after three hours of searching, however he hadn't lost any of his determination and was keen to get out searching again later after he had resolved his hunger and had a shower. Naboo and Bollo looked up hopefully when he walked in.

"No sign, but I'm not giving up," he said firmly.

"We'll go out with you aswell later," Naboo said, inhaling on a bong him and his familiar were sharing.

"I appreciate your help," Howard forced a smile to them, and continued into the bathroom to prepare a shower.

As he let the warm, refreshing water spill over him, he wasn't going to lie to himself that he wasn't worried. He wasn't going to reassure himself that Vince was fine. This thought alone made him cut down his usual shower time by at least seven minutes, making him jump out and dry and dress at lightning speed, it seemed. Where could Vince possibly be? He thought to himself as he pulled on his corduroys. It was the afternoon now; surely someone must've found him already, if he hadn't woken up, which he probably should've! The thought of Vince in a coma struck Howard hard, and he felt a large lump form in his throat. He wasn't waiting around for Naboo and Bollo- if they weren't ready, he was keen to get out and search again by himself.

"I'm searching again now," he announced after swiftly leaving the bedroom. "Are you ready?"

Naboo placed his turban firmly upon his head, and gave Howard a determined look. "I'm ready." "Bollo ready too," added his familiar.

The three of them left the flat and began to search. Naboo took to the back alleyways, Bollo trekked around the streets and Howard checked all the restaurants, cafés, pubs and clubs. It was only half an hour into searching that Naboo, turban astray, bolted around the corner up to Howard, who was peering into a shop window.

"Found him," he said, out of breath.

Howard patted Naboo on the shoulder thankfully and rushed ahead, Naboo giving him hasty directions. He soon came across Vince, sat in a grubby, smelly back alley leant against the wall, sprawled out. His matted hair was in tangles and outfit all dirty. He had large, dark circles underneath his eyes – mainly caused by smudged eyeliner, but also by lack of decent sleep.

"Vince," Howard kneeled down and gently shook him.

Vince groaned, and opened his eyes halfway, wincing at the two worried figures stood above him. He wasn't drunk anymore, he didn't think, he'd just consumed far too much alcohol last night and had a shocking hangover. A soaring pain in his head confirmed this and he let out a long moan out of sheer agony.

"Vince?" Howard swept his greasy fringe out of his face, lightly patting it. "Vince, let us take you home, put you to bed."

The hungover electro boy held a hand to his forehead, trying to massage the headache through his temples. He knew the figure speaking was Howard, but still tried to maintain being angry at him and didn't reply.

"Come on, Vince," Naboo held out a hand and Vince took it, pointedly ignoring Howard's hand. As Naboo pulled him up, Howard helped, despite Vince's rejection. He didn't care if his best friend was mad at him. He was just glad he was safe.

When the two had found Bollo, it didn't take long to get back to the flat, as Bollo's strong primate arms did the job of carrying Vince nicely and in no time they were in the warm and Howard was carrying him to the bedroom, despite his weak struggles to be put down.

For the second time in a week, Howard lay Vince down on the bed, feeling a slight de ja vu from the other day. His heart fluttered when he remembered the feeling of kissing his best friend.

"I didn't need you to carry me, Howard," Vince snapped, head drooping.

"I think you did, little man," Howard said.

Vince looked up at him in surprise as his favourite nickname had been said. The warmth in Howard's voice made him gulp, and made his heart beat faster as he stared up at the Northern Jazz freak, who was gazing back at him. But then Vince's entranced expression turned into a one of hatred as a thought hit him – why is he acting so cruelly? Judging me, ignoring me, and now trying to suck up to me again? Who does this joker think he is?

And with that thought in mind, Vince rolled over so he had his back to him. Howard, knowing what all this was about, sighed heavily.

"Vince, look, I'm sorry," he said sincerely, sitting himself down on the bed beside him.

Vince buried his face into the pillow. "Leave me alone, 'Oward."

"I won't, until you get the message I'm putting across. That I'm _sorry_ for treating you that way. I've never been in a situation like this before, it's very weird and confusing and I'm not used to confrontations and talking about things. But I know this has really upset you and I'm willing to talk about it-"

"Well the Prince of Camden doesn't want to speak with you right now," Vince said shortly into the pillow.

"Vince, please!" Howard begged.

With all the little energy Vince had left, he pushed himself up. "You judge me, accusing me that I don't care and that I say things I don't mean, saying you don't trust me and that I don't have feelings – that my body's just like a sausage, with a liver and a kidney stuck in there somewhere. I have a mind, and a soul, as well as a brain. I also have a _heart_. And my heart fucking belongs to _you_, Howard. _To_ _you_. I've loved you for years. Just because I was drunk doesn't mean I was talking crap. Because if you were a normal person, you'd know that alcohol gives you confidence to say how you truly feel to the one person who makes your heart skip, whenever he comes into view. Do you know how nervous I was to say those three simple words to you? I'd been bigging it up for ages, getting so worked up about it. Then when I finally say it, you shoot me right back down again, breaking my heart. But whatever you do, my heart will always belong to _you, _youbig, Northern, jazzynonce."

Vince sat there, out of breath, staring deep into the eyes of the beautiful man before him, who looked absolutely shell shocked. His expression was a complete mixture – overwhelmed, upset, happy, relieved, but most of all, loved up. He stared back at Vince, their eyes locking into each other, realization hitting both of them. Realizing that all the things they did together, and to each other, whether they were good or bad, were out of love. True love that Vince had just confirmed, for Howard didn't have to say anything to declare his. His expression said at all, and the fact that he had said it a couple years earlier, when the two of them narrowly avoided an icy death in the Arctic Tundra. Vince still felt awful about laughing every time he thought about it, the only reason a giggle passed his lips was because it was so unexpected, but so overwhelming, he laughed without realizing. Because he was so happy his true love loved him back.

And then Howard smiled, not ashamed to let tears spill over his eyes. Vince lifted a finger and gently wiped the trickling tears away, still a bit upset about how Howard had treated him, but at the same time overjoyed that he finally believed him.

"I'm sorry, Vince," Howard muttered, in a choked voice.

"It's alright," Vince smiled, an apology the only thing he needed.

If Vince had his way, he'd pull Howard into a rib-breaking hug, but his headache had worsened after his rant and it was difficult to even keep his eyes open. The pain was too much bear, and Howard instantly understood.

"I'll let you get some sleep," he said softly, before standing up and leaving the room silently. Vince was prepared to protest but his exhaustion defeated him before he could even speak.


	6. Chapter 6

Howard finally slept happily for the first time in donkey's years, it seemed, for now he and Vince had finally made their feelings known to each other. Both of them were incredibly relieved that their unique friendship had been restored, although something more than friendship was likely to sprout up now.

Vince was still dead to the world when Howard hit the hay at eleven. He watched him sleeping from the other side of the room – though not in a creepy way, in more of a loving, thoughtful way. What was Vince dreaming of now? Probably dancing on Gary Numan's private jet with the man himself, Howard chuckled. Or dressing up with Mick Jagger. Or maybe, if he was fortunate enough, maybe Vince was dreaming of a fun Satsuma fight with the person who loved him the most. No, not Bob Fossil, Howard.

He then rolled over and closed his eyes, Vince's peaceful, pale face still engraved in his mind. Knowing that this beautiful man was his now, and his to keep, felt better than climbing the highest mountain, or scoring the winning goal in the final of a football championship. It was Howard's biggest accomplishment to date, winning the man who made his life worth living. And the big feeling of relief, the fact that Vince forgave him, overwhelmed Howard so much it almost bought him to tears. Knowing that he had almost lost Vince because of his stupidity, frightened him so much he could barely function.

But he shoved those thoughts aggressively out of his mind, and focused on the positive things. Hopefully, any argument the two had could be restored by the simple fact that they both adored each other. This could be a big advantage in the future, Howard thought. They could go on holidays together, go on cute little dates, and buy each other special gifts for Valentine's Day and Christmas. It wouldn't be pressured, it wouldn't be rushed or frantic. They would both take it equally as slow and relaxed. And Howard knew, deep inside, that whatever happened, they would never get fed up of each other.

Howard's perfect sleep was interrupted, as he awoke to a strange sound. His ears peeled, he sat up, and looked around the room, instantly over to Vince's bed. There was no one occupying it. Howard immediately leapt up, frantically scanning the room. He rushed to the door, but was distracted as he heard a quiet voice – "Howard…"

He whipped around on his heel. The voice sounded choked up, small, and almost weak. But after a moment of realization, it was undeniably Vince. Howard squinted, confused, and then his voice came again, "No, Howard…", followed by choked, heartbroken sobs and snuffles. Vince was crying.

The noises were coming from below him. Howard looked toward the floor, and curled up in a ball in the corner, slowly rocking back and forth, crying his wonderful blue eyes out, was his Vince.

Howard threw himself down without a second thought, and ignoring the uneasy feeling of physically touching someone, he wrapped his arms possessively and tightly around his waist.

"Ssh," he whispered soothingly. "It's okay, Little Man. It's okay."

Vince sniffed suddenly then, as if surprised.

"Howard?" he wept, rolling over, burrowing himself into Howard's chest, dampening his pajamas with his tears.

"It's okay," Howard repeated, kissing the top of his head. "I'm here."  
Vince sighed then, assumingly with relief. His breathing, as well as his voice was shaky and uneven.

"What's wrong?" Howard asked softly.

It took Vince a while to reply. "I had a nightmare," he sniffed. "That when I stormed out, you chased after me, and you ran out into the middle of the road…" That set off Vince again into deep, violent sobs, petrifying him. Howard tightened his grip around him, feeling nothing but grief for the poor, innocent boy.

"But I'm alive Vince," he said soothingly. "I'm alive and well. And I'm never going to leave you."

Vince looked up at him then, his lovely blue eyes glistening with tears, his face peaky and wet. "Promise?" he asked.

"Promise," Howard said firmly, before mentally promising himself to stay alive, and to check on Vince at least once every night. Being so young and well, to put it bluntly, dumb, this emotional series of events was probably too much for him. It didn't help that being alone in bed triggered a lot of thinking inside that small, naïve mind of his.

The two lay like that for a while more, Howard stroking Vince's hair and gently rocking him, until his snuffling stopped completely. He reminded him strongly of a very small child, very needy and innocent. But that didn't bother Howard one bit. He'd been through a lot of emotional trauma himself, yes sir. He knew Vince's pain.

And then Vince, in one swift movement, craned his neck, and kissed him, softly and lovingly. It was almost as if to reality check and make sure he was definitely real. Howard kissed him back. It was their first proper kiss, no confusion or drunkenness. Just butterflies and explosions in both of their stomachs, to signify the start of a wonderful relationship.

"I love you, 'Oward," Vince said, snuggling into him again.

"I love you too, Little Man," Howard smiled, a tear forming in his eye.

**Well, there you have it. Thanks ever so much for reading, hope it has entertained you enough for you to review it, which would be dandy and much appreciated. :)))))**

**There will be more stories of Howince to come! x**


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